The Panathinaikos Problem
by I am Mayhem
Summary: When the TARDIS crash-lands in the middle of the first Olympic Games, it doesn't take long for the Doctor, Amy, and Rory to see that there's more going on than meets the eye. Can they unravel the mystery before it's too late? Full summary inside. OC villains, and possible OC protagonists. Enjoy!
1. Unexplored and Unignored

**Hello, everyone! This is my first time writing for the Doctor Who fandom, but I'm really excited for this story. It was spawned from horrendous sadness generated by the Angels Take Manhattan, so I decided I would write a few, final adventures for Amy Pond and her Raggedy Doctor. Thanks to my amazing editor, first of all, and then to all of you for bothering to take the time to read this. I hope you like it! Love you all!** **~Mayhem**

**Summary**

**It's a big year for Athens in 1896. The first Global Olympics is almost here, and people have been travelling in from all over the world; on horses, camels, in carriages and...what's this? A police box? How did that get here? Whatever the case, any hope that the Doctor, Amy, and Rory have of simply enjoying the Olympic Games may be dashed by something lurking under the halls of the elegant University of Athens. Something that wants revenge...and plans on taking its past back from those who tore it away.**

The vacuum of space is often thought of as one of the most peaceful places in the universe. The majesty of the Time Vortex can be seen occasionally, flowing freely through the stars before fading away again, like an ethereal Aurora Borealis meshing together the whole of the universe. Since sound can't very well travel through the spacey-wacey type of matter that makes up the atmosphere, or lack thereof, between galaxies, the result is complete and utter tranquility. Not an incredible amount of life-forms had been able to revel in this calmness; they were naturally very shocked and confused about the fact that they had been jettisoned from an airlock, and expired before they could really appreciate the wonders around them. That was the unfortunate side effect of free-floating in deep space; asphyxiation took over in about two minutes, thirty seconds if the organism wasted precious sight-seeing time thrashing about.

What a pity.

But that little notch in the benefits of galaxy-watching was completely ignored by the two life-forms that sat, uncaring, with their feet dangling into the void. Any passing by in a lone spacecraft would have marveled at how in Raxacoricofallapatorius (because only Raxacoricofallapatorian spacecraft were normally seen in this sector.) these beings were able to survive being exposed to the airless plane. After they finished wondering _that_, they would have been inclined to wonder why aforementioned beings were traveling in an Earth-origin police box, which was lazily revolving about the Mutter's Spiral.

Any rational captain of a trade ship in the employ of the Raxas Alliance would have ordered a full biological scan of such a vehicle, which was unknown in origin and appeared to house humanoid life-forms, which hadn't been permitted in this particular sector of the Spiral since the Wryer's Accord was authorized in the year forty-five thousand. Had they made such a scan, they would have found not two, but three and a half life forms, the odd half appearing to emanate from the ship itself. The final identification process would find, as predicted, two humans of Earth. But as was not predicted, the third did not register in their database. The reason for this was that, of course, the ship's archives deleted ID files on any species that was registered under the category of 'Extinct'.

And Gallifreyans were supposed to be _firmly_ under that category.

But no ship did travel by in the time the police box showed itself. Interplanetary expressways were shut down that day, due to the red giant, Felis Ashera, going supernova and shooting flares over several million miles of interstate. The star was, thankfully, out of the way of any planets that were nearby and served to make a spectacular show for the organisms on the nearby rocks.

_Not nearly as spectacular as seeing it all the way up here, though_, thought one of the humans, choosing to break the mental silence in which she and her partner sat. She nudged the man next to her and smiled, taking his hand as tendrils of crimson flame shot across half a star system, creating a stunning display of dancing plasma. The two of them sat, watching the destruction of a star that would not even had been visible in their time. Shaking her red hair behind her shoulders and out of her face, the woman pointed out into the void, a confused expression taking over as she noted a change in the explosion. A shiny, shimmery rift seemed to split apart the flame in several portions, though the flares continued as though this was a normal occurrence.

"Rory, what's that?" she inquired, and the man's grey eyes narrowed as he shook his head.

"I…don't know."

"Well, _that_, that's a transcendal rift!" A voice within the police box called out, causing the two to jump in surprise. "Honestly, Ponds. Have I taught you nothing?"

The aforementioned should-be-extinct Gallifreyan's head popped up over the metal grating that formed the floor of the ship, a look of mock-shame on his face as he muttered directly to the control panel on the craft. "They can't even tell what a tear in the continuum looks like! Can you believe that? After all we've been through…"

The dash seemed to glow a bit brighter, and went _boink_ in response. The dark-haired man grinned. "Knew you'd understand."

The redheaded human turned to look at the odd man with narrowed eyes. "Doctor, I, for one, have had enough experience with holes in time. I'm just wondering; _why_ is one _there_?"

"The supernova, of course. Large scale destruction of that much energy? Thought it would have been obvious, Amelia." he held out his hand and helped the girl to her feet. "Naturally it causes some sort of trauma in the vortex. It'll heal itself up in no time. Can't leave for a bit, though."

Amy followed him, Rory still transfixed by the death of the star. "What d'you mean by 'can't leave'?"

"Oh, until the rifts close. We try to travel now, take a wrong turn (Don't give me that look! It's an astronomically small possibility!) and land inside the supernova. Now, the TARDIS can take a lot of heat, I've seen her do it, but I would rather not try it out."

"How long until they close?"

"Could be an hour, could be two days. The holes are a shock response," he explained, punching buttons on the console. "It's all tranquil and happy in the vortex, just drifting peacefully along, and then BOOM!" he wildly accompanied the word with gestures, causing Amy to lean away. "Sudden supernova!"

"We're going to be stuck here for _two days_?"

"_Potentially_; means _not definite_! And you sound like it's an inconvenience." He reached up and pulled down one of the small screens as if to show it to Amy. "Time machine, remember?"

Amy crossed her arms. "Doctor, a supernova won't keep me busy for two days."

"Mister Pond seems to be doing just fine with it! And you could use the swimming pool."

"You jettisoned that. Three weeks ago."

"Did I? Explains the lack of water in my study."

"You have a study?"

"It was across from the pool."

"Ah."

"It's rather a nice place now! Used to have all these waves coming in through the door, whenever the TARDIS made a turn, or flipped over, or spiraled out of control-"

"I'll believe you," Amy turned and strolled over to her husband, who was standing up in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and linked her arm through his. "Hey, Mister Pond; how's the explosion?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and straightened his bow tie, going back down the stairs to fiddle with the wires below deck. "Reminds me; need to make a new pool. _Away_ from my office, this time."

After four hours had passed, with the Doctor adding in not only a pool, but a secondary library devoted purely to Asterian fiction, a retro arcade, and a fully stocked ice-cream bar. He surfaced, pocketing his sonic as he climbed the stairs, and glanced out the doors, the Ponds having abandoned their post sometime earlier. Good, good; the rifts had healed up nicely. It was safe to travel, and earlier than anticipated. Not knowing where they had got to, he merely yelled down the passageways.

"Ponds! Come out, we're leaving! You may want to hang on to something!"

Rory and Amy came running from the hallway. "What? Doctor, what's going on?"

He raised one eyebrow as he looked them up and down in an irritated manner. Amy's hair was significantly less brushed than it had been earlier, and Rory's shirt was on backwards. The Doctor took a careful step back and refused to look at them. "I trust that you two found ways to occupy your time. In the _library_, perhaps? How are the _books_?"

Rory nodded his head quickly. "Ye-yeah, the books were great. Really, really good."

Amy attempted to smooth out her hair. "Great, yeah. What Rory said."

The Doctor shook his head, hair mussing and then righting itself. "I was going to tell you that time has fixed up nicely. We're able to leave, but if you two were busy _reading_…"

"No, no! It's fine! We can leave now. Where to?" Amy moved to stand next to the Doctor, examining the knobs and flashing lights.

"Well, that's a _high_ regard for one of the most spectacular supernovas the world has ever seen. And I'm not sure. I think the TARDIS might have plans, though." With that, the Doctor pulled down a grey lever to his right. The doors swung shut, and everyone braced themselves against metal railing, the console, or wherever they could get a foothold as the TARDIS began to shift. Previously flat surfaces became inclined, and the Doctor staggered from station to station on the dash, rapidly pushing buttons and moving dials. The TARDIS was suddenly jerked violently to the side, throwing everyone in accordance with the movement.

"What was that?!" Amy yelled, as several red buttons began flashing, bathing the room in an eerie light. A slow siren began wailing. "It doesn't sound good!"

The Doctor scrambled to right himself, and examined the dash. "It's not. Not good. Positively undeniably incredibly not good. We hit a scab. Wrong turn."

"We hit a _what_?"

"You know when you humans get a cut and there's that weird scab that has a texture while it's healing?" he gestured to a partially healed scrape upon Amy's forearm, a memory from one of their most recent (and more eventful) adventures, as an example. "It's a lot like that, only inside the Vortex! And we hit it!"

"That's a _horrid_ analogy!"

"_You_ try to think of a better one, then! _I'll_ be here trying to make sure we don't all _die_!"

Another bump caused them all to fall again. Rory, who hadn't even managed to right himself after the first collision, went tumbling down half the set of stairs. Suddenly, with an almighty crash, the TARDIS seemed to hit ground. The siren was reduced to a long, low beep, punctuated by the red lights in the utter darkness. It was a while before any voice broke the silence.

…_beeeoooop…beeeoooop…beeeoooop…_

"E-everyone okay? Rory?"

"Yeah, fine. Bump on the head is all. You, Amy?"

"Good, I think. Where's the Doctor?"

"I don't know. He's not near me."

"Fat lot of good you two were, _Ponds_. Had to pilot the ship to ground myself."

"Oh, you call this piloting, then?"

"I think there have been _considerably_ worse landings than this. Where are you two?

"On the stairs."

"By the doors."

"Well, Amelia, what are you waiting for? Open them up!"

"Doctor, we don't even know where we are."

"That's the fun part, though, isn't it? Finding out?"

"Never could argue with you."

The siren stopped as sunlight poured into the TARDIS, illuminating the interior enough to see by. The lights continued to flash, however. The silhouettes of the Doctor and his Companions rose from the ground and gathered around the console, nearest the doors.

Rory was the first to ask the question they were all thinking. "Doctor, what happened to the TARDIS?"

The Doctor ran his hands over the buttons and flashing lights, all of which were now an eerie, devilish red. "I-I'm not sure. Usually we depend on residual Huon radiation from Heart of the TARDIS mingling with the Time Vortex to cushion our landing. That time, though, there was definitely no cushion. See, these bars here," he pointed to the screen above, where there were five dashes, all bright yellow. "Those should be green. Something drained the landing radiation, or let it escape. She's going to need time to regain the energy. Until then, the TARDIS isn't going anywhere."

"I thought we hit…scabs…in the Vortex?"

"We did. But that wouldn't do anything to the TARDIS. She's strong enough to withstand that; done it before. No, something _latched on_ to our energy signature in the vortex and pulled us aground. Also, don't use that term for the bumps anymore. I hate it now."

"Why would anyone do that? There aren't any more TARDISes…no point in harvesting the energy." murmured Amy.

"I have no idea." The Doctor gave a snarky half-smile and walked to the doorway, looking out. "Let's go ask them why."

**Critique is welcome! Until next time, my lovelies!**


	2. An Exchange Between Friends

**Hey, guys! So sorry for the wait. School is trying to steal my time and happiness, which doesn't really seem fair since I want both to write this story and get good grades. Blah. Thank you for those who followed and favorited and (especially) those who reviewed! I love you all! :)**

**This chapter deals with the introduction of my created characters. No canon Who people in this chapter, sorry.**

**I also realized that I neglected my disclaimer in my last chapter. I am a special kind of Derp. Doctor Who does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. The only characters that were invented by me are Giorgios, Julius, and Myra.**

The stifling, arid heat of Athens seemed to rise from every available surface in the classroom. Students, wearing uniform blazers and violently cursing the standard attire in their hazed minds, took tiresome notes amid the desert-esque atmosphere. The room was a large one, wide windows opening to the green exterior of the space. Wooden desks were arranged in orderly rows upon several levels. In each desk, a woozy boy sat, attentive to all but his lessons during the lecture.

At the front of the classroom, a thin, stern-faced man rattled off information in a monotone. He would occasionally gesture to the chalkboard behind him, the heat not seeming to bother him in an impeccable suit. The ruler's edge mustache would twitch angrily whenever he hit a note of passion in his grandiose speech, such as the waning interest in the funding of education (and therefore, professors) in Greece. Though the topic of the lecture was meant to be the unique travel of auditory wavelengths within the theoretical vacuum of space, he managed to find a way to tie in his concerns for the financial welfare of this particular university and its entire staff (particularly himself).

"We may safely postulate that the entirety of a high-frequency sound wave would not be capable of traveling within the expanse of deep space after passing through the atmosphere." He frowned, with all the look of a sudden epiphany. "Which may be tied into a similar concept, namely the travelling of sound from this university to the governmental financial offices. We have thousands of studies that support the latter evidence."

The next fifteen minutes passed in this manner, upon which the students began fidgeting, even in their torpor, as the end of the hour drew nearer. At one point, one student had the unnerving audacity to pull his pencil-bag from the floor and pack away his notes. As the jangling and rustling noise resounded through the classroom, all people, students and teacher alike, faced the noise.

"Ah, Master Demitri. So eager to leave?" The mentor's facial hair jumped in aggravation, having been on the brink of hitting a high (and voluminous) point in his lesson-turned-tirade. "What could possibly await you outside this room that makes you so anxious?"

The poor boy froze, a bottle of correction ink slowly beginning to drip onto his blue-and-white blazer. "S-so sorry, sir. Begging your pardon, Mister Spanos. It was almost the end of the lesson, wasn't it, sir?"

"Indeed. But I wasn't under the impression that I was paid next-to-nothing to watch you ignore the end of my lectures."

"Apologies, sir; I'm just a bit excited, sir."

A single eyebrow was raised at this. "Excited for what, pray tell?"

"Well, sir, my friend Christos' father has been going on about how he's been meeting with people of important stations, sir, and he reckons," Demitri's face broke into a slow grin as he turned to the other students around him, "he reckons he could get me and Christos passes for the Olympics, sir."

A sudden mass of murmurs and shocked exclamations arose from the surrounding desks. The Games had been the talk of the school for the past eight months, the revival of the Ancient Greek tradition seeming like something that would have jumped straight from their history texts. Passes were notoriously difficult to obtain for middle-class citizens, with some day-long permits selling for as much two thousand drachma. As the class continued to hum with awe of their friend, Professor Spanos looked irritatedly to the pendulum clock on the wall. Several seconds passed and there was little sign of the excitement fading. The teacher, rolling his eyes, rose from his chair and selected a rather heavy tome from a nearby bookshelf. Crossing to the front of the desk, he held his arms straight away from his body, suspending the book in midair. Several students realized what was about to transpire, and covered their ears.

The Professor let the book fall, parallel with the ground, and it hit the floor with a _boom_ that was amplified by precisely thirteen times in the specially-designed lecture hall. While every one of the unprepared students yelled in shock at the unexpected noise and belatedly clamped their hands over the sides of their head, their teacher stood before his desk, arms crossed, entirely unfazed by the sound. He waited for the majority of the class to recover before speaking.

"While we are all very pleased for Master Demitri, I will remind you that there are merely two minutes until the end of class, and my lecture was not yet completed. You may thank your classmate for the essay I am assigning, to be turned in next class _with_ your original assignment, on the theory of auditory propagation within a vacuum," he held up a hand at the angry outbursts from the levels of his audience. "I expect no less than seven pages from each of you."

Several boys in the first two rows turned to Demitri with wrathful looks.

"You and your stupid Olympics!"

"Sure, _you'll_ be having fun at the Pana, but what about us, eh?"

"Seven pages!"

Demitri scowled back just as fiercely. "Isn't my fault! Didn't know he would, did I? If you lot could go to the Olympics, you'd do the same thi-"

The sharp ringing of the bell signaled the end of classes, as the University terminated learning for the afternoon. The students filed out the double-doors of the classroom, stopping just out of sight to make rude gestures in the general direction of their professor. The twenty-year old males vacated the campus for the end of the afternoon, several still hollering abuses at Demitri as he sprinted to where his friend Christos was waiting.

Professor Spanos, who knew very well what the students said about him, went back to his seat and adjusted several of the items on his desk, lining them up in organized rows. He scratched his mustache as he regarded his clearly arranged schedule for the next week. It was April the third, and there had been many strange folk about, visiting from other countries in preparation for the Games. This meant that he, Giorgios Spanos, had a great many meetings with 'intellectuals' from around the world in the upcoming days. He couldn't abide those conferences, mostly based upon a need to restrain himself from laughing in their imbecilic faces. If only they were privy to what he knew…

Sighing, he shook his head. No. There was no one he could tell. He straightened his tie and resolved to get several of the previous week's essays graded. What had he been thinking, assigning yet another project? Seven pages from forty-two students (Granted, only forty-two of his ninety six pupils.) would keep him from gaining any joy from life for the next three weeks. Though, classes _were_ cancelled soon, in a sort of nationalistic 'holiday' for the Olympics. He wasn't going to see any of his students until the seventeenth, after his last class of the mid-semester the next day. But the class on the fourth was one of regular physics, instead of astrophysics such as he taught the third-years. Giorgios much preferred astrophysics to the 'normal' stuff. But better a dull class and then holiday, than a dull class and then forty-two essays four days later. He finished the essay he had been grading, marking a large 'Poor' with a flourish, and moved quickly to the next.

He sat like this for nearly an hour, marking over everything and berating his students' stupidity (Really, did none of them pay attention to his lectures?), before he was startled out of the trance by a knock on his desk. After smearing the blue ink on the 'L' of 'Fail', he indignantly looked up to see the round, grinning face of his colleague, Julius Kouros.

Julius was a larger man, clean-shaven with very red cheeks and a booming laugh. His hair was thinning, though he attempted to hide this fact by combing over the few strands he had and behaving as if he were the most attractive man in the cosmos. Giorgios found him well-intentioned (albeit a tad neurotic), but with the most dreadful habit of turning up whenever one wanted to work. Despite that, the two were fair friends.

"Good evening to you, Giorgios! How're the writings coming along? Couldn't be bothered to spend too much time on mine-marked 'em all 'Average'. You?"

"Astrophysics essays require significantly more scrutiny than Philosophy, Julius," Giorgios stated in a bored tone. "Especially since they announced that the Games will be taking place not five kilometers from here…"

"The Games, the Games! I take it you _won't_ be attending? My oldest son has been _clamoring_ to go."

"I have no interest in it, and Myra has yet to express an opinion."

"Ah, your niece! How is she?"

"The same as ever, really. Quiet, not much to say. I actually doubt that she'll have an interest in the Olympics. She seems to be becoming quite the junior intellectual."

"Just like her old uncle, eh?"

"I prefer to think of myself as an activist, actually. Not much time for books these days."

"Right, right. It's likely fortunate that I can't procure passes for the Olympics—the Drachmas aren't worth anything anymore, it seems—because I've been _informed_," Giorgios looked up at these words, and Julius glanced quickly to the door to ensure their solitude before resuming. "The next phase is to be initiated. He was able to procure the energy that we needed."

Giorgios rose from his seat, eyebrows lowered as he stared intensely at his colleague. "He has contacted you directly? When?"

"I assure you; even I was surprised at the message. Little more than two days ago."

"I'm sorry; I thought that I was the Astrophysicist at this university. We agreed—you, Markos, and I—that all further contacts would be brought directly to me! He'll be expecting us to have procured a subject by now!" Giorgios' mustache leaped in anger below livid eyes. Julius drew himself up to his full height of five-feet, seven inches, and responded curtly.

"Well, I assumed he would have contacted you, too, what with our schedules not letting us see each other! And my little Kostas' birthday was yesterday! Pardon me for putting my _family_ before my work!"

"We've been over this, Julius; if the project is successful, we will be rewarded thirty times what could be offered in this _miserable_ place," Giorgios hissed, gesturing angrily to the rows of empty seats. "If we fail, we lose everything!"

Julius quickly ran his hand through his nonexistent hair, mussing the careful comb-over, "I'm aware, Giorgios! Of all of it! Been doubling my hours, haven't I? The wife's getting suspicious! Kids're growing up, and I'm _missing_ it! You know what?" he glared back at his taller friend. "I have half a mind to drop this scheme, right here, right now!"

Giorgios held up a hand in warning, looking around frantically. "Don't _say_ things like that! If he hears you…" he ran his hands down his face and shook his head. "Well, you might never see your children again. Being in this primary circle makes you aware of information that _no one_ must know. And I understand how you feel, but we all must make sacrifices. Your children will benefit from this. You will never have to work again, and may watch them grow _all_ you want, but it will take a bit of time to make that possible."

"Doesn't seem worth it, really. Sometimes."

"It will be. A small bit of sacrifice. Just trust me. Work before family, Julius. Just for a short time. Until we find a subject, which must happen _quickly_. He'll likely be expecting one by tomorrow if contact was two days ago…" Giorgios stared imploringly at Julius, who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Uncle?"

The new voice, which emanated from the partially-shut double-doors, brought an abrupt end to the serious conversation. The two men turned to the speaker, who remained halfway hidden behind the entrance. Giorgios smiled thinly before calling out.

"Ah, Myra! What have I said about eavesdropping? Come out, now. There's a good girl."

A small child shuffled into the room. She was wearing a basic blue dress, nothing that suggested status, and her characteristically Greek features were still obscured by the slight remains of baby fat. She twisted one hand into the hem of her dress, a nervous habit.

"When is supper? Miss Andrea won't allow me into the kitchen."

Giorgios attempted a smile, and moved from his desk, before stooping to talk to the child. "Well then, tell Miss Andrea that she'll be hearing from me if she doesn't have supper out in a quarter hour," he stood and began guiding the small girl back to the door. "I'll be finished with work in a few moments. Go on to the dining hall."

The child nodded somberly as the door shut behind her. Giorgios shook his head as he walked back to Julius. "She's been like this for months, always quiet and shuffling about after classes end. Dreadfully hard to keep track of. I merely wish that I could find someone to care for her in my stead for a few days."

Julius cocked his head and raised a brow, seemingly pensive. Giorgios paused. "What is it?"

His friend gestured vaguely and replied in an airy tone. "Well, you seem to be inconvenienced by her, and I happen to know where she'll be a great benefit to much of society…particularly yourself."

"You've brought up the boarding school before, and I've told you that I'll not have her sent off to Normandy. I promised my brother—God rest his soul—that I would keep her in Greece until she comes of age."

"I wasn't thinking of Normandy, Giorgios."

Professor Spanos tilted his head slightly in confusion. "I'm not sure I know what you're saying, my friend."

Julius stared back without expression, though the waning sunlight cast sharp shadows across the planes of his face, looking almost sinister in the dying day. "What we discussed before the little girl's interruption. He's getting impatient—we need a subject—"

Giorgios started at Julius's words. "She's barely eight!"

"Is that not near enough to the ideal age we agreed upon?!"

"My brother would rise from his grave if he knew that you thought of using his only daughter as a lab rat for an otherworldly—"

"_What choice do we have, Spanos_?!"

The harsh words that suddenly tore from the rounded man stunned Giorgios into silence. Julius appeared mad, his eyes wide.

"If we don't obtain a subject by the start of the Olympics—yes, he did mention a deadline—he will kill us both, or worse. Do you want that to happen? _Do you want that_?!"

Giorgios winced and collapsed in his chair, covering his face with his hands. Julius crossed his arms and glared down at his friend, desperation etched in every line of his face.

"Julius, I understand your concerns, but I cannot _willingly _place my niece into a situation where she may not survive. Is there any other option? Do you not have any other friends with children?"

"The only children I know of are my own, and they are far below the age that he set for the procedure," Julius softened, his face relaxing. "You are wise to feel concerns for Myra's safety, but the conditions are godlike. The technology that he has brought us…she will not only survive, but be made better for the world. We must trust him."

"I still believe that we should think of other options. She is my family, however distant my brother and I may have been."

Julius shrugged, and turned to exit the classroom, pausing at the doors while imitating Giorgios' imperial tone. "A small bit of sacrifice. Work before family, Giorgios. Just for a short time."

His colleague's dress shoes tapped along the floor, fading into the distance. Spanos sat alone at his desk, head in his hands. Various waves of conflicting emotion washed over him. Guilt, fear, anger, and then, blessed apathy. What must happen would happen. No other subjects were available for the test, and he would likely die if Myra was not turned over. And if there was one thing Giorgios Spanos feared after watching his brother's last breath by his bedside, it was death. He shoved the grim thoughts aside, rose stiffly, and walked briskly to the dining hall to join his niece for supper.

**Reviews constitute a large part of my diet as an author! Need a bunch of them to remain well-nourished. :)**

**Until next time, beautiful people!**


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